Author's note: I got this idea after reading one of Princess Kitty 1's fine UlquiHime tales, "Stay Beautiful." The setting of that story is more modern, but after reading it, I realized that Ulquiorra's internal monologue from Unmasked would make a fine basis for a classic private eye monologue. For now, this is a one-shot, but if I feel inspired, it may become the prologue to a longer story.

Disclaimer: Bleach was created by Tite Kubo and is published in Shonen Jump. Studio Pierrot is responsible for the anime adaptation, and Viz Media for the official English release. No copyright infringement is intended or should be inferred.

The Case of the Missing Hougyoku

To be, or... fuck it.

I was born with nothing, in the kind of hole where the sun's afraid to show itself. The darkness closed over me like hungry jaws, ready to chew me up like kibble at the first sign of weakness, and spit me out like the end of a bad cigar.

You ever get in a staring contest with a shadow? I have. And I haven't blinked yet.

When you've walked this hollow world as long as I have, you learn a few things. Inside everyone, there's a void – it's just a matter of how long you have to prod before you find it. I spent half my life trying to deny that void, and the other half trying to become one with it. Booze for my ears and fingers, smokes for my nose and tongue... all that's left are my eyes. No matter what I do, I can't seem to dull them. That's why they call me a private eye.

I was sprawled out on the sofa after a long night with my best friend, Jack. We had a heart-to-heart until the wee hours of the morning. He's a good listener, which was too bad, because I had nothing to talk about – nothing he hadn't heard before, anyway. We'd already covered the evils of my ex-wife, the virtues of vice, and my chances with Nemu from the Haineko Club. A month ago, he bet me twenty that I had no shot with her. Today, the time limit expired.

The only thing worse than starting your day by losing a bet to a half-empty liquor bottle is realizing that you don't have the money to cover it.

And that's when she walked in. Hair like the autumn leaves, gams you had to travel by bus, a rack you could bounce a half-dollar off of, and get two bits change... and God as my witness, dressed all in white, from her patent-leather shoes to her springtime bonnet. She leaned over me, and though her dress came down to her calves, the top was tight enough to make her look more naked than naked. I'd have to tell Nemu about that trick, I thought, and opened my eyes wide. The dame squealed like my ex-wife when she found out her alimony was being reduced, and if my head hadn't already felt like the inside of a kettle drum, I would've enjoyed the sound.

"Mr. Cifer, you scared me," she said, raising a hand to her chest. I could see the pulse in her neck; her heart was galloping like a spooked horse. "I thought you were sleeping... though I don't know how you could sleep like that." She looked around in faint disgust, trying her best to cover it with an awkward smile. No dice, dame – but thanks for the thought.

"Years of practice," I said, sitting up and taking a deep drag on my cigarette. It tasted like wet garbage, which put it head and shoulders above the rest of the pack. She looked at me like I was crying green tears, and I crashed back to my senses. "Call me Ulquiorra," I said, stabbing out the smoke. Even a bum like me knows you don't smoke trash like that in front of a dame like her. "Now, how can I help you, Miss..."

"Inoue. Orihime Inoue."

Orihime Inoue. It sounded familiar, but as I looked her over, I knew that was probably wishful thinking. Dame walks in looking like that, she could call herself the Queen of England, and a guy would think, "Yeah, I was at the palace last week."

"What seems to be the trouble, Miss Inoue?"

"I'm here today because I've lost something very important... or rather, because something very important was taken from me." She fished around in her purse, an elegant black number that matched her perfectly, which meant it came from some other world than my office. She came up with a newspaper clipping, and through my bloodshot eyes, I took in the headline: "World-famous Diamond to Headline Gala." Underneath it was a picture of a rock the size of my fist. The caption identified the rock as the Hougyoku, and suddenly I realized why this dame looked familiar. I shook my head and looked up from the clipping.

"You're that Inoue?" I asked. The Inoue family were well-known art collectors who had made a fortune in fashion designs. A string of bad business decisions a generation ago had nearly cost them everything, but the company held on long enough for this dame and her brother to set it straight again. The brother had kicked the bucket two or three years back. The papers hadn't run a picture of her since then – probably why I didn't recognize her at first – but they had taken to calling her "the weaving princess" since she became sole owner and took the company to new heights, while personally designing one new outfit a month. What would a dame like her want with me?

"Yes, Mr. Cifer. I was going to use the Hougyoku as the centerpiece of my gala next week. But yesterday..." A sob slipped out, and she pulled a handkerchief from her purse. I'd have offered her mine, but it would've just made her face look five miles of bad road. Anyway, she got over her crying jag soon enough. "I'm sorry... it's just that this diamond was the last piece my brother acquired before he died. He knew I had always found it pretty, and the day he purchased it was the proudest day of his life."

"And now it's gone missing. Where'd you last see it?"

"Ever since Sora acquired it two-and-a-half years ago, we kept it under heavy guard at the First National Bank. With the gala coming up, however, I thought that might be too conspicuous, so a month ago I relocated it to my house, where I kept it in my personal safe. Only a dozen people knew about the move; everyone else thinks that the worthless replica I replaced it with is the real thing."

So she had brains and brass as well as beauty. I shook my head and looked again to make sure she was real. Still sitting there – if she was a dream, it sure as hell wasn't mine. "So this was an inside job."

She nodded, and looked through her purse one more time. "I believe so. I have a list of the people who knew the diamond's location."

I couldn't believe this dame. Brains, beauty, brass, and... something that means "prepared" and starts with a B. I checked her left hand as she passed me the list. Of all the diamonds she owned, not one was on her finger. Well, at least I could rule out every guy she knew – not one of them had snatched her up, which meant they were all too stupid to live, let alone pull off a heist like this. I took the list and glanced it over. "You say it went missing yesterday?"

"Yes. Or at least, that's when I noticed it missing. I hadn't checked on it since I first moved it out of the vault."

"And everyone on the list knows the combination to the safe?"

"Yes."

So I had a dozen suspects, any one of whom might have stolen a priceless diamond some time in the last month. Isn't life grand?

"Have you notified the police?"

"Yes, and they've promised to do everything they can. But I've heard about you, Mr. Cifer. They say nothing escapes your eyes. They say that if you don't see it, it doesn't exist." My reputation preceded me, then. That could be a good thing or a bad thing... and since she looked at me like I was her only hope, I figured she'd only heard the good parts. Not that she would need much imagination to figure out the bad ones – a quick glance around my office made them clear enough.

Well, most of them. I promised myself I'd keep the rest hidden from her as long as I could. "They say a lot of things, Miss Inoue."

Her face hardened. "This isn't just a theft, Mr. Cifer. It's a personal betrayal. I want the scum who stole my brother's legacy brought to justice... and for that, I need the best." I made a mental note never to think of her as weak. I'd played a lot of bad hands, but one mistake like that, and I'd be cashing in my chips... for good. Her face softened again. "I need you." Looking like that, a lump of iron would've felt bad for her. Too bad iron had nothing on me.

"Don't get me wrong. I'll take the case." Okay, iron used to have nothing on me. I must've been getting soft in my old age (thirty-five last December – Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita and all that). She smiled like the sun rising after a winter that had dragged on all year and threw her arms around me.

"Oh, thank you! I can't tell you how much this means to me, Mr. Cifer!" I patted her on the back, and – just for a moment – I believed a void could feel.

"Not a problem, Miss Inoue. I'll let you know when I find something." Before walking out, she gave me one last squeeze-and-smile. As she left, I realized that she'd kept calling me "Mr. Cifer." I'd called her "Miss Inoue" out of respect, but a dame like her goes around calling you Mr. anything, and before you know it, your head swells up like the wonderful wizard's hot-air balloon. I couldn't afford that. In my line of work, swelled heads get punctured.

The kind of puncture that leaves an exit wound.

Author's note: For extra fun, imagine Ulquiorra with Columbo's voice... or Columbo with Ulquiorra's voice. ("One more thing, trash...") Either way works.